


A Titian’s Love

by Omicron_The_IceQueen



Series: The Level Workers [11]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omicron_The_IceQueen/pseuds/Omicron_The_IceQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Metrotan’s love and care is a great gift to have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cyberra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberra/gifts).



Octane wasn’t just staggering around drunk in Metroplex’s halls. Oh no, Octane was ranting in his native dialect, the tanker waving his arms and flaring out his wings in a threat display at the wall in front of him. It was the same wall that he had ran into not a minute ago. What had set the triple changer off though was that Octane had been- sort of- talking with his mate.

Rhythm Runner was nesting in their shared room farther down the hall and giggling her head off nearly, as over the still open communications channel to her mech rant and rave. She only understood part of it, as Octane was over charged, thus slurring his words. The glider femmie had no doubts that Metroplex was actually watching whatever was happening outside with curious interest and a growing amount of amusement.

That amusement grew even more as the living city finally got the gist of what Octane saying to [yelling at] his wall, evidently thinking said wall had just kidnaped his mate. In Octane’s state he didn’t seem to be able to grasp that he was listening to his mate’s gasps over the open line in his helm instead of on the other side of the wall.

Metroplex chuckled as he watched before he twitched the wall in front of the triple changer just to see how Octane would react. The living city wasn’t disappointed as Octane promptly gave a femmling like scream and lashed out. Normally the purple mech had a fairly good punch, with both strength and mass behind him... but right now in his over charged state and not as good balance, he ended up falling against the wall with a crash.

“Ya's hardheady-dare yaaa!” The mech yelled as he fell back down with enough dead weight that if on earth he would have made a micro-quake.

Metroplex twitched the same wall again, highly amused as his Platform Manager scrambled back away from it.

“Have at thy then!” Octane trying to roll over to get back up, but he couldn’t rock up with his wings being ridged, back arched. The mech looked upside down at one of the many thousands of vents. And what was poked out of the vent was a head of magneto-lizard, a six legged gecko like creature that was investigating the yelling and strange motions with a chirp and head tilt.

Octane flailed one more time before the pressure on his wings was too much and fall fully onto his back again, “Imma okay!” He announced to the city on a while, splayed wings twitching on the floor. Octane belatedly noticed the magneto-lizard that was chipped at him “My flitter likes those...!” he realized, the fact that his mate had magneto-lizards slotted into place.

Metroplex chuckles out loud, the decking and other assorting parts of his complex academy. Watching as Octane temporary forgot his war with the wall, the city former couldn’t help but commenting, “You’re an amusing drunk, my flybot.”

“The floor is talking!” Octane cried, started enough to scoot.

Struggling not to let himself laugh, Metroplex was finding it harder with the next blurted lines.

“Now it's laughing at meeeee! it's joining the walls- IT IS LITORLY JOINED TO THE WALL!” Octane realized in drunken horror.

Metroplex was trembling with laughter now. He knew that he couldn’t burst out into roaring laughter- no matter how tempting, without deafening his residents. As it was there was a mech or two that yelped and tripped, or those that were in a wash racks. Decking vibrated and the living city watched his Octane start to rant about the walls and floor holding the both ceiling and his flitter-mate hostage. All the while scooting along the floor on his back, and it was becoming increasingly harder for Metroplex tries to hold in laughter at his PM’s behavior. He was making odd sounds as he watched.

An inquisitive, “Chirp?” Was just heard as one of the six legged magneto-lizard poked it’s crystal head of the nearest vent. 

Octane’s optics flashed in a blink, having the equivalent of ADD (if a mech could have it) when over charged. “-flitter likes you!” Octane announced, scooting to closer to the vent. 

Metroplex was gleefully making recordings of all if this to tease Octane with when he’s sober again. Part of his attention was drawn away, but city formers where masters of multi tasting. Quicksilver, his currently only medic onboard was rapping her knuckles on a wall.

“What's going on?” The white and silver femmie asked, she was always listening for odd sounds with Metroplex, as much for his hearth as well the fact that normally such sounds as now promised good things of amusement.

His voice unsteady from restraining laughter, lower than normal as a result, “Octane is a very amusing drunk.”

Quicksilver arched an optic ridge up, “Did he finally challenge Grimlock to a drinking game?” 

Frag, if the tanker lost she was out of what remained of her credits. One the screen closest to her turned, and the femmie stepped closer to watch the display of Octane’s backward scoot and ranting, chasing a confused looking magneto-lizard.

The medic dropped her head into her hands, shaking with quiet laughter, “please tell me you’re recording this along with your overcharge footage?”

“Of course,” Metroplex rumbled, and edge of pleasure as well amusement. Letting his medic keep watching as the wall closest to Octane twitched, while scanning his other inhabitance and their health.

Octane at the same time lunged at wall that moved with a half formed battle cry, but only managed to face-plant against it, “...ow...” the mech glared at wall from his new spot on the ground again, “I'm watching yaaaaa...”

Twitch-twitch went the wall, trigging a full on freaking out. A flier freak out with wings flailing along with arms, the miner thrusters on his feet lighting up but the main thrusters on his back stayed off thanks to safety reasons.

“Ceiling heeelp!” Octane cried, and then yelped as Metroplex extended one of his many machine arms just to bug his Platform Manager by tweaking the edges of purple wings. Those wings twitched, they were lightly pinched again and Octane jerked as he spotted the extension out of the wall, “ITS EVOLVING!!”

Once more it took a monumental effort for Metroplex not to laugh as he extended another arm, almost mercilessly teasing his tanker that was flailing again. The purple mech fell over backwards and transformed. Sitting in his tanker form... upside down, all wheels going as the mech was honestly thinking he was ‘getting away’ from his tormentor.

“I look forward to his reaction to these vids once he’s sober,” Metroplex said, addressing Rhythm Runner by a privet line, teased at Octane’s exposed undercarriage with his machine arms and Octane picked up speed at the touch.

Watching as much on a screen from her shared rooms, as listening to the ramblings over their bond, the guilder chuckled as she grinned, “Me too.” Rhythm Runner said as she shifted in the thermal blanket she was wrapped up in. All around Metroplex hummed as he next poked at his…or rather their, tanker’s wheel wells next.

Octane’s engine roared and strained as his two front sets of steering wheels moved back and forth, then more rapidly, “IM GOIN’ TA JACK KNIFE!” He screamed in drunk horror, horns blaring a warning while guide lights flashed from white to red on his sides. 

“You’re laying on your back flier,” Metroplex replayed, his tone completely casual as he shifted the floor panels a little, keeping Octane from rocking too much.

“I've ROLLED!” came the equally terrified response.

Had he been in robotic form, the city might have vented a sigh, “You transformed upside down my little drunken idiot.” Metroplex continued to poke around at Octane’s axles and undercarriage, making the wheels starts spinning again.

“Hey,” Rhythm Runner protested, lightly slapping the wall against her shared birth. “Octane’s my big drunken idiot first Plexy.” The air in both the room she was and the hall Octane was in flooded with energy as the city-former let his own personal field wrap around the gluider and triple changer for what could be called a breathless minute. 

For almost a whole breem Metroplex held them like that, and when he spoke the tone echoed all around, soft yes but rich with love and affection. “And you both, my little dancer, are equally mine. My PM and his mate, linked to me now as much as you are bonded to each other.” He almost crooned, remembering the feeling of them linked to him together at the same time when in one of his Command Nests. Of the few times the couple had been daring enough to mate or bond when like that and purred at the thought of future times.

Octane’s horns blurbed in reaction before he transformed to shuttle form, landing gear out and moving, thrusters blurb too but safeties keep them from flaring on. Even as the machine arms poked at this new form, his wings flailed in little jerks. But the movement was slowing and the thrum of engines rumble and started to shut down.

With the seemingly endless amount of patience of a city-former, Metro plex waited for the mech to shut down, and after a moment or two Octane transformed automatically. Snoring almost as loud as Grimlock was (he was Octane's drinking partner and just as passed out), the triple changer was bound and determined to sleep for the next three days.

Metroplex rumbled indulgently, as Octane had been within twenty paces of his room this whole time. Manipulating his field, the true titian moved Octane by precision sub-spacing him and depositing him into the right room. The thump didn’t wake or jar the tanker, but startled Rhythm Runner into jumping on the berth. She had been communing there, inter acting with the thick energy field and all but leaning into the ancient power and strength.

Slipping off the berth, and pulling the thermo blankets with her, the femmie covered Octane’s core to keep him from cooling down too much. The once messenger and artist of body and paint than settled down at her mate’s head, running her servos over his face before kissing him. Rhythm Runner could taste high grade on her mate’s lips, her optics dimming as the field pulsed in time with a great spark older then all of Metroplex’s residents combined.

But to them, to Rhythm Runner it was all completely benign, as close as she ever knew that could be like the love of Primus. Only difference is, the femmie thought as she settled into recharge listening to the systems of Octane with one audio and the other filled with the City-former’s space deep song in the other, The care of a titian is personal, and love just for us.

As if she transmitted that, Metroplex’s song took an all-encompassing turn as he sang for his odd bunch of inhabitance, raising the room temperature at the same time for them. Reassuring and promising protection with in his walls.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cy helped me in a spot where I was stuck, but hope you like this!

“Normal spoken dialog,”

“ ** _Metrotitan spoken dialog,_** ”

:: _Comm dialog,_ ::

~bond or hardline dialog from a normal mech,~

~ **bond or hardline dialog from a Metrotitan,** ~

 

* * *

 

 

“Uurrarp... frag me sideways...” Octane muttered, lifting a hand to his head, listening to internal error reports and warning of a nearly half empty holding tank.

 

Wait what?

 

Frowning, but keeping red optics stubbornly off and shutters closed, the tanker shifted though the layers of messages from all five of his internal computers that all informed the mech that he had been very stupid the orn before... Really? He had been out _that_ long?

 

“Well scrap.” Octane muttered as he pulled up the levels of his storage and holding tanks, all but one was full. Meaning he and Grimlock had down a _lot_ in the drinking contest if they moved onto Octane’s ‘homemade’ stalk. The purple and white mech winced as he saw his personal label for that tank, it was one of three he’s been aging for Metroplex. He hopped the city wouldn’t mind two tanks instead.

 

Carefully, Octane felt around his form, joints still and everything ached from the overcharge. Yet the mech first inclination was to see if his mate was on or beside him, the size and mass scale between them meant that Octane could inadvertently hurt Rhythm Runner if he wasn’t always mindful. He reached out over their bond, feeling slowly on the threads and cords to the guilder, feeling not only her tolerant amusement but the new threads woven into their bond. Rhythm Runner was laughing at him, light and sweet like high grade even if it was at his expense, while Metroplex’s amusement thrummed through the base of Octane’s spark.

 

The feeling made the tanker squirm a bit inside, but it wasn’t in anything like revulsion. It was just still so new to him to feel a city-former so close. Even with Octane’s time as Trypticon’s Platform Manager, the mech hadn’t yet bonded with the living station, part of the reason he’d been so ‘easily’ taken away by the Decepticon forces.

 

Octane whined as he rocked back and forth, reaching up to grasp the edge of his berth, thermo blankets falling off his form. Emotions feeling a bit raw after a heavy overcharge like that, the tanker laid half sprawled on the berth. The wheels on his legs and arms spun and wings twitched.

 

A warm wave of love washed over the mech, curling around his spark in a way that almost had Octane swooning. That is, if he wasn’t bent over and half sprawled on the berth.

 

“ ** _You are an endless source of entertainment when you’re overcharged Fly-bot._** ” Metroplex purred, watching his PM but he was keeping the lights in that room dimmed.

 

“Glad to of service O’Big Afted Master...” Octane grumped, resisting the urge to crawl onto the berth to wait out the aches in his joints. Instead the triple changer pushed himself up and walked stiffly to the other side of the room and the energon dispenser there, but for some reason hearing the hidden workings gargle as they changed the flow of energon Octane couldn’t help a hefty amount of distrust that built... for the wall off all things.

 

 _Why am I afraid of Plexy’s wall?_ Octane wondered, and with his shields all down the old mind of his charge brushed against him, easily reading his thoughts at the moment.

 

“ ** _That would because of the ‘fights’ you got into last night._** ” The decking and walls vibrated in time with a chuckle.

 

“Oh dear Primus,” Octane groaned as he thumped his head against the wall, “What did I do?” He asked, know it was pointless to try and keep the blocked, staticy memories forgotten.

 

Not with Metroplex watching everything, and the truly gigantic mech they all lived in took particular enjoyment out of his new Platform Manager. In both Octane’s actions and reactions, but more so in the reactions from stimulation by Metroplex’s doing, liking _those_ most of all. From purely mental when Octane was liked up, to tweaking of wing tips by machine arms.

 

“ ** _You seemed to have taken insult to many of my walls,_** ” Metroplex now said, and Octane could hear the undertone of satisfied purring, “ ** _And the floor in the hall outside of your quarters._** ”

 

The triple changer thumped his head against the wall again, feeling a slight twitch under it, and then Octane looked up as light spilled into the dim chamber. He promptly let out a, “Gah!” and lifted a hand to cover his optics, “Can you turn that down?” Octane groaned, and when nothing happed but a faint rumble he squinted through optics shutters at the screen, leaning heavily on the desk to stare at the evidently carefully cut and made video of his drunken adventures.

 

Octane blinked dulling at it, almost hearing the ‘I told you so’s from his internal computers.

 

“Ugh,” Octane said ever so creatively as he hung his head. At least he didn’t do any worse. This time that is. He hadn’t come back awake tangled up in some questionable cables and a pervertedly snickering Trypticon. So... that was a plus!

 

It wasn’t even half way through the choice recordings when Octane dropped his head into a palm. Knowing full well that he was an idiot when over charged on high grade energon (and only then he was sure). It had seemed like such a treat to be able to drink as much as he wanted before, still did in a way.

 

Metroplex chuckled, and played a clip of when Octane was upside down and thinking he was going to jack-knifing.

 

Octane’s head snapped up, despite the pain, then he shuttered at the thought. He HAD jack-knifed before, it was painful, scary and he had almost burned in the spilt energon. “Not funny ‘Plexy...”

 

“ ** _I found it, you, greatly entertaining Fly-bot._** ” Metroplex chuckled, and his smile was almost heard.

 

“Yeah, yeah...” Octane stood back upright stiffly before stumbling over to the main door to his shared rooms. He ran into the door, grunted, felt around it, “Hey!”

 

“ ** _What?_** ”

 

There was innocence in the deep voice that Octane didn’t believe for a nano-klik. Grumbling, Octane found the pad to manually open the door. The full light in the hall blinded the triple tanker, with another, “Gah!” and lifted his arms to shield his arms.

 

Before Octane could fully step out, a silent machine arm snaked out and pinched the end of a purple wing, tweaking it unexpectedly and the deck vibrated in Metroplex’s amusement when the tanker yelped and jumped away. Octane stumbled into the hall, the effected wing sweeping back and down.

 

“Plexy!” Octane whined, the sudden movement sent aches through his joints again as his optics were still cycling. And now there was an itchy spot on the end of his wing to top it off. The mech twitched his wings as he walked, following his mental map instead of linking with Metroplex’s platform (or rather city) network.

 

The mech grunted a few klicks later as he turned and ran into a wall instead of a hall way.

 

“What the...?” Octane stepped back, his wings fanning out in shock, reviewing his path and _knew_ that there should be a side hall here. "Plexy?" he asked frowning in confusion.

 

" ** _Hm?_** " Metroplex sounded as if his attention had been elsewhere. Though no one who really knew the cityformer would be fooled, and the simmering amusement bubbling through Octane's spark gave him away.

 

"Are you growing?" Octane asked, still sounding very confused as he ran a hand over the wall, following it.

 

" ** _Not that I noticed,_** " was the calm, if amused, response. " ** _Why do you ask?_** "

 

Red optics narrowed a bit but the tanker rolled his shoulders, is wings starting to lift back up from where he'd tucked them, "...nothing." Did he take a wrong turn?

 

Metroplex hummed nonchalantly, watching his PM intently. Another machine arm snaked out, tweaking the very tip of a purple wing before zipping out of sight again.

 

"Gah!" Octane jumped to the side, his shoulder running into the wall and he winced as the ache there spiked to a throb, "Primus frag me sideways- ow!"

 

There was no sound from the city, but the feeling that swirled through the part of Octane's spark that was Metroplex’s suggested a broad, unseen grin. Growling softly, the mech pushed himself back up right, optics scanning the ceiling above before slapping the wall with the back of his hand. Octane turned and walked back the way he came.

 

That got a squawk from the Metrotitan, trying his best to project the aura of one being unfairly blamed. He was failing utterly, but that didn't stop him from trying. Wings arched up automatically at the sound, then tucked back down against his back, though the mech brushed up against a wall again as he corrected his balance.

 

" ** _That must be the 'drunkard's walk' I've heard so much about,_** " Metroplex mused, watching the slightly weaving tanker making his way down the corridor. "Or is that the 'hungover walk'?"

 

"I don't walk when I'm drunk," Octane gave an affronted, elitist style sniff, "I flounce."

 

" ** _And pick fights with innocent walls,_** " was the amused retort. " ** _What did my walls do to you?_** "

 

"You smacked me with them!" Octane waved his arms, remembering all too clearly the first decaorn after leaving Cybertron when Metroplex hadn't wanted anyone near his Command Center except Quicksilver for repairs.

 

" ** _And you got me back for that long ago,_** " the cityformer pointed out. A machine arm shot out, this time catching Octane as his flailing nearly caused him to overbalance. " ** _Careful. I don't need another Octane-aft-shaped dent in my decking._** "

 

 _I did?_ ' Octane wondered, using the thin privacy shield that he subconsciously made in the walk, _I don’t remember doing anything..._ The mech reached back and wrapped a hand around the machine arm to pulled himself back up. If those things could hold a rage-intoxicated Grimlock they could handle a little tugging.

 

The mech took another step, or tried to, but made a startled sound as he was held back. Looking back he stared at the arm that was clapped onto a wing support. It didn’t hurt but the spot was one of those he didn’t’ have a hope of reaching, or getting any leverage to twist free.

 

“Hey!”

 

" ** _Sorry, the joint locked up._** " Metroplex was doing his very best to sound innocent, but considering how well-maintained he was now the probability of the joint actually locking up was very, very low. He was just doing it to further mess with the triple changer.

 

"...I don't believe that, we just did all these arms in this section!" Octane backed up and edged to his left, reaching backwards and grasping at the air. The arm moved, actually lifting Octane slightly off his feet before putting him back down. The whine from the joint as it finally let do was deliberately exaggerated. "Ah!" Octane ducked the moment he was free and flapped his wings at the new itchy sport, "How in dead space do those things make it itch?"

 

“ ** _I have no idea._** " The arm twitched, indicating a shrug city-former style.

 

The triple changer rolled his shoulders, wondering if cold space would help nub the feeling out. Octane stopped himself form asking aloud though, and then once more yelped as the leading edge of his left wing was pinched, “Fragging aft- Plexy! Stop that!”

 

“ ** _Stop what?_** ” Metroplex asked, not bothering to hide his pleased tone now as he was getting bigger, flailing reactions with each _pinch, tweak, pinch-pinch!_ The fact that he was ‘cheating’ by keeping his PM going anywhere by one of the medical bays wasn’t helping his ‘victim’ in the least.

 

“ARG!” Octane flailed, giving a half roar as he finally had it. Waving arms and wings to free himself, the tanker made a snap choice and dove into the air lock to his right. He punched in a rapid override code, thanking Primus the airlocks worked automatically first.

 

That meant he was pushing off into the semi-gravity on Metroplex’s outer hull before the massive mech realized what Octane was doing and where he was now. Once the cold void hit his frame, Octane groaned in relief. His wings were almost throbbing and the trembling from the ‘itching’ eased slowly.

 

~ **What do you think you are Doing Octane?** ~ An incredulous voice spoke through the newly formed bond, ~ **Octane!** ~ Metroplex added as he was shoved back and almost blocked.

 

:: _I am so not talking to you right now Metroplex._ :: Octane commed back instead of talking by the bond, his wings held up in offended-ness before his thrusters fired to life. The triple changer folded into his shuttle form and rocketed out into space before the gravity could increase.

 

And then the Platform Manager was free of the gravity well the Metrotitan inadvertently made, rolling lazily as he blended into the darkness. Octane got a fair distance before Metroplex was able to stop let alone turnabout.

 

There was no way in the pits he was going to go back, not with full energon reserved and a hangover still rooted in place. So Octane stayed true to his word and ignored comms and demands over the bond with all the stubbornness that both truck-formers and fliers had in spades.


End file.
